New Years Resolutions
by MonkandMiko
Summary: Not long after Kagome returns from the past for good, it's time to celebrate the future again. Within the giant flock of people that visit the Higurashi shrine for New Years every year, Kagome spots someone unfamiliar...but somehow very familar. MK
1. Imagine

**Title:** Imagine

**Author:** Ayrith

**Challenge:** Not long after Kagome returns from the past for good, it's time to celebrate the future again. Within the giant flock of people that visit the Higurashi shrine for New Years every year, Kagome spots someone unfamiliar...but somehow very familar. MK

_Reality is what you make it._

_And this is after the end:_

The doctors call it peripheral neuropathy. That is what they told me, anyway. They tried to describe it to me the day I returned to consciousness, which, they informed me later, was after I had spent a week in comatose: "Nerve damage" and "crush injury" were words they used. ("There is hope yet," they also said, but that was bullshit.) They told me, in too many pointless words, that I no longer had complete control over my arm movements because many of the nerves in my arms had been crushed by extreme pressure. These nerves could no longer effectively receive instruction from my brain, which thus, slowed my body's responses and dulled my sensitivity to touch.

They told me that it was unlikely that I would ever regain complete function again.

That day, the scars on my arms were shiny and dark in the bright examination room, thick coils carved deep into my skin as if I had been tied too tight with a rope around my shoulders and arms. When asked casually about how I had received such injuries, my mother was quick to reply, glancing at me fearfully as if she were afraid I might say something that could at all resemble the truth.

Like I would say anything at all.

"It was from an accident," she told them, "it was an accident." Her face, then, had been grim, but set so determinedly. I remember wondering idly how she had the gall to say that when I was lying right there in the room, listening to her deny everything I had ever worked so hard to achieve just to keep my life a _secret_. I remember thinking, _beaten into silence for a fucking jewel it wasn't worth it you know I fucking hate you all and I hate you mostly for not getting it and I hate you too God because how could_ _you_ _bring me_ back.

I remember thinking: It wasn't an accident.

Nothing Naraku did was ever on accident.

-

'My monsters are not really monsters, you know. They are not even evil,' I tell the snow.

So pretty and pristine.

'They are people.'

It withers to black.

'I know. They died too, along time ago.'

-

_I imagine him again today:_

In the mornings, I always try to scramble eggs. My mother hates it because I never let her help and my arms shake when I lift the pan and I'm always too slow and the eggs always burn. She lets me though because cooking eggs is the only thing she has ever seen me vehement about. She likes to pretend that there something of her little girl still inside of me, that in these moments, that little girl is trying to come back – _and maybe she is_.

It is futile hope, though, because no matter how hard I try and how hard she hopes, I always fail (which means she does too).

Burnt eggs are worthless.

Every morning, I trudge outside into the yard around my mother's house, and _scrape scrape scrape, _all those eggs, all those unborn baby birds, charred black as sin against the white snow.

It is a ritual.

This morning, I look and he is sitting there again. I'm not sure why it's him or _if _it's him but it looks like him and part of me wants to _believe _it too. He sits against the trunk of the god tree, hands hidden in his blue robes, his staff propped up against his shoulder --_ I remember that pose its his meditating pose – _and he is staring through me, staring above me, at my mother's white house, and he looks so _real. _As if he is back to life, sitting before me in the flesh, a monster of my dreams – _and oh how I've missed him_.

I don't go near; I wouldn't be able to feel him anyway.

As always, I scrape away my remains and return to the house, closing the door.

He never looks at me. Not even once.

And of everything, that hurts the most.

-

(And that is the first sign of life in me: I need, and I despair, and I cling, if only to a dream.)

-

My hands are clumsy.

The first time, it is just a glass cup. It slides through my fingers like liquid, and my body is too thick and too slow, and the glass crashes to the floor with a brutal sound that stuns me before my eyes can register the glass shattering. Mother smiles and simpers forgiveness and cleans it up with a decisive swish.

The thirteenth time, it is her favorite china dish, but by now she no longer gets mad. She just silently sweeps it up, and empties the pieces into a white bag which is knotted so tight I can never pry through.

I know this because I find the pieces, two days later, in a shoe box full of love letters beneath her bed.

She almost catches me, but I am indifferent and she is desperate and when I leave she convinces herself that I don't know she no longer dares to share her dreams with me.

We both know if she does, I might break those too.

-

And really, her silence is more then enough punishment.

-

I remember when I first started seeing him.

Five months, fourteen days and twenty-two hours after the end, and I was throwing up memories in the yard. Sometimes, I think that is where it all started; at that moment, I was too full and he wasn't ready to be settled so I spit him out and he came back to life. I remember looking up and seeing him there, standing like a god at the steps of the shrine, and all I could think about was how beautiful he was, how much I suddenly wanted to hold him and touch him and never let him go, how I wanted him more then anything I had ever wanted before.

"Miroku," I whispered and his name shuddered through me into the night, echoing perpetually, and then he turned and our eyes locked.

Something exploded inside of me.

When I woke I was in my bed with hot bricks at my feet -- _and I was so cold, all over everywhere_ -- and my family was worried and there he was, sitting outside except he never looked at me again, our eyes never met, and after awhile I started to accept it because everything was different now, suddenly, vastly _different_.

Or maybe I was different,

I think I died.

--

_And this is another memory:_

"Don't you wonder?" I ask him – _and we are alive and that is why this is a nightmare and he is a monster_. "Don't you wonder sometimes if any of this is...well, real?"

He is silent.

" I know," I continue nervously, "that most people don't understand what I mean when I ask this. They think 'I think too much' or 'I worry to much' or 'I care to much.' But..."

He turns to me as I pause and his eyes are so dark, so deep, so – _dead._

"You understand, don't you?" I whisper. "Death is inevitable, isn't it? It's going to happen. So what is the point of living? If I'm going to die and my life fade away over time, then how can I prove I was ever alive? That I was ever..._real_?"

He smiles at me then, in that way of his in which he finds something amusing even though it really isn't.

"You know to much," he says –_ and these are the last words he says to me._

-

"New Years is coming, Kagome," Mother chirps as she helps me dress – _and my arms are in the way I can't make them move they just twitch and jerk and mama pretends not to notice_. "The birth of a new year, a new resolution, a new _life_."

She's been saying things like that lately. It's new and it's tiring. She's been searching, lately, inside this broken body for a monster of her own, and I don't understand because we both know I will never be the girl she once had again.

But she keeps searching.

_I don't think failure pains her anymore. _

She smiles and and brushes her hand against my hair.

"It's always good to start over."

_That_ gets a response out of me. For the first time in a long time, I'm tempted to speak

"_That's cheating."_

As always, I don't, but I'm tempted. Instead, I shake my head.

She's excited. "What honey? What is it? You want to start over?" and there is hope, so much hope in her voice. When I shake my head again, she frowns and wilts, but it is still there, still there and it _won't go away_.

"What? I don't understand, honey. Change, starting over...it's just a part of life."

For the first time in my life, I want to hit her.

Of course it's a part of life, I don't say.

That's why it's cheating.

--

New Years Eve, the shrine is filled with visitors.

With my mother busy, I sneak away. I creep out into the snow and – _oh there he is again_ – and suddenly I'm so tired of it all.

I decide to sit next to him.

And I actually do.

_The earth is rich here, filling the air. There is no snow._

From this close, he seems _more _then real, and it scares me. I dare not touch him. I'm too afraid to find out if he is or if he's not, because then everything will _change _again. But at least I can admire him.

He is a beautiful man.

_You know to much._

Before I can stop it, something is writhing in my stomach, in my chest, and it hurts so much that I throw up the words, "Why do I see you?"

And _god _it hurts, but it feels so good.

"Hmm…" The funny thing is, he doesn't seem to be startled, not even half as much as I am. Perhaps not even at all. He moves – _for the first time – _and runs his hands through his bangs with his fingers – _and god that is his thinking expression._

"Would you prefer to see Inuyasha?"

And I break, into tiny, little pieces, and the tears roll down my face and I realize that if I were to go crazy Miroku is _perfect, _because even though I love him so much, he can't tear my heart out like Sango can or shatter my soul like Shippou can or…or make me _die _like Inuyasha's memory can do. Because Mirokudied_ before the end._

And my memories of him are rather peaceful.

Miroku takes my silence as an answer (because it is). "You need this anyway," he continues, and leans back more fully against the trunk, falling into a relaxed position. "I was wondering how much longer I'd have to wait, though honestly I can't complain, this time is rather remarkable."

I stare at him, eyes wide. Finally he chuckles and turns to me.

His eyes are light blue, whole blue, like fire and starlight.

"Kagome," he says, "It's been five hundred years, hmm? Five hundred years. A long time."

And then I know, and suddenly I am white hot. "You're not real, Miroku," I whisper so hard, so

vehemently, that I can hardly recognize the voice as my own. "You're not _real."_

"But I am to you, aren't I? I'm real to you. You _make _me real," he says and he says it so nonchalantly that it makes me mad, just as mad as I used to be, so long ago.

"_But I'm not even real._" And I'm crying because it _hurts. _It hurts so much to say. But it's finally been said. Finally. "It doesn't feel like it, I'm hardly _living _anymore. And…and really, in the end, I changed _nothing._"

He stares at me, watching as I curl up and shudder into my knees, but _I don't care, I don't fucking care anymore—_

And then I feel it.

Warm, soft, brushing against my hand, my cheek, fingers tilting up my chin, and then…

He kisses me.

_And god, I _feel_ it._

"You're real," he breathes, after we part.

I believe him.

--

_And when he fades between my fingers, scattering like the drifting snow upon the dark mark of the earth, I am cold and warm in the same moment, and it feels _beautiful

--

I sleep dreamlessly.

In the morning, my mother and I make eggs.

They taste perfect.

HOPEFULLY other MnM members will follow suit and send in entries for this unofficial contest/challenge...we can only hope, right? Until then, at least we have this excellent example by Ayrith to go by.

Megami no Eien


	2. Violet Eyes

**Title:** Violet Eyes  
**Author:** Chiisai-Tori  
**Challenge:** Not long after Kagome returns from the past for good, it's time to celebrate the future again. Within the giant flock of people that visit the Higurashi shrine for New Years every year, Kagome spots someone unfamiliar...but somehow very familar. MK

(Sorry if this is uber-late, but I've only just seen  
the challenge post, so I thought I'd take a crack at it.)

Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing em for a bit. Will give them  
back mostly undamaged.

* * *

Violet Eyes 

A year is a very long time.

Many things can happen in the space of a year. A secret dream can  
come true, love can come and go, accomplishments can be made and  
celebrated, hope can vanish, tears can be shed, hearts can break.

For the past year Kagome Higurashi had been completely and utterly  
numb. Life carried on around her as she seemed to just stand in the  
middle of it all, like a boulder in the path of a rushing river,  
completely oblivious.

A year since she had left; a year since the demon Naraku had  
finally, finally been defeated once and for all. Almost from the  
very day she had made her decision, emotion had not touched her.  
She saw the worried looks from her mother – bless the woman, she  
never gave up – the confused grumbles of her dear grandfather, the  
sulky pout of a little brother whose sister refused to play their  
silly games anymore.

At least some things never changed – her friends were still giggly,  
gossipy and determined to set her up.

"Kagome-chan! Stop moping around and get out here! The people are  
starting to arrive, you don't want to miss the New Year do you?  
Come on!" Aiko blasted through the bedroom door, face flushed from  
a combination of irritation, excitement and the effort of running up a flight of stairs. "I saw the cutest guy outside, I'll bet he's  
just your type – you're not wearing that, are you?" Kagome could  
only watch in bemusement as the chatty whirlwind rummaged through  
her wardrobe frantically, trying to find the outfit that was just  
right'.

"Aiko-chan, don't fuss so much. It's going to be dark out there  
anyway. I doubt anyone would even see me."

Her friend eyed her jeans-and-shirt ensemble with clear  
disgust. "That's not the point, Kagome-chan!" she wailed. "You  
want to see the New Year in properly, don't you?"

"Actually, I really don't expect it to be much different from the  
last one."

"Agh! Why do I even bother? Here, try this on…"

A short time later, having been poked and prodded into a dress that  
passed inspection, Kagome joined the growing throng in the shrine  
courtyard. Against her will, she found her eyes being drawn to the  
old well, now boarded up tight. Absently she felt her hand drift  
down to rest on her hip, the soft bump signifying the presence of a  
small jewel and reassuring her in an odd way.

She had never told anyone where the Shikon no Tama had disappeared  
to after that fateful wish had been made. It hadn't seemed worth  
the trouble, somehow. Inuyasha would have pitched a fit. Still, as  
a human he couldn't really do much damage, and Kikyou would keep him  
in line…

Not thinking about it, not thinking about it…ow, headache.'

She barely noticed when Aiko latched firmly onto her arm – that  
would bruise later, she was sure – and dragged her over to the cute  
guy who was just her type' for that evening. Reluctantly, and a tad  
embarrassed at her outgoing friend's behaviour, she lifted her gaze  
to observe Aiko's latest victim…experiment…whatever.

A handsome face,' was the first thought to reach her mind. Whoa…  
tall, too.' But it was the eyes that caught her attention and held  
her entranced. The introduction went on unnoticed. "This is Akito…  
Kagome-chan, are you listening?"

A ghostly image of a staff and heavy purple robes danced across her vision as she stared dumbstruck into uniquely violet eyes. For the  
first time in a year, she felt something.

Blind panic. She bolted.

When her mind cleared, she grew aware of a tightness in her chest  
and tears streaming down her face. All it took was one moment for  
her to notice that her treacherous body was somehow curled into the  
side of the shed surrounding the old well, and something inside her  
shattered. Great, gulping sobs shook her small frame as a year of  
sorrow and denial caught up with her.

"Excuse me, Higurashi-san? Er…Kagome-san? Are you alright?" A  
gentle hand on her shoulder had her flinching sharply. The hand  
quickly withdrew. "Ah, sorry. It's just, you looked so upset, I  
couldn't help but be worried…Kagome-san?"

She glanced up – violet eyes looked back at her in concern.

"I…I'm sorry. It's only that," she sniffed quietly, "you remind me  
of someone. A very dear friend."

"Oh?"

She looked away. "He's dead."

"Ah. I am sorry. Should I…do you want me to leave?"

Snap out of it!' she thought fiercely. The poor guy didn't do  
anything!'

"No!" she blurted out before he could get away. "No, I mean…please  
stay. It's okay, really." He looked a little unsure, but settled  
himself down to watch the goings-on in the courtyard, curiously  
glancing at his new acquaintance every now and then.

And Kagome finally allowed herself to remember…and to feel.

Laughter when the fizzy soda first took Miroku unawares, shocking  
him immensely that a drink could be so dangerous.

Laughter when his lecherous instincts got the better of him, getting  
him chased by a furious taijya and her weapon.

Laughter when he showed his true colours and scammed his way into the best accommodation in town.

Laughter when Naraku finally died, when the Kaza-ana finally  
vanished and he gave her the biggest bear hug of all time – spinning  
madly and collapsing in a dizzy, giggling heap.

There had been so much laughter.

The voice which seemed so familiar and yet so foreign broke into her  
reverie, startling her. "Oh, it's nearly midnight. They're going  
to count down, soon." Violet eyes glittered mischeviously. "A kiss  
for the New Year, my lady? It's a Western tradition, I believe."  
He grinned. "And we mustn't break tradition."

Laughter. Noisy, blessed laughter.

"Eh, maybe next year," she chuckled, waving him off with one hand.  
The more things changed, the more they stayed the same, and for the  
first time she was glad of it. "Maybe next year."

"Very well," he sighed, feigning dejection admirably. "I shall deal  
with the rejection somehow, I'm sure." Akito dropped the act  
suddenly, giving her a closer look that reminded her oh, so much of  
the too-perceptive monk she had left behind. "Are you feeling  
better now? You're not crying anymore, which I must say is an  
improvement."

Kagome almost nodded, then had a rather Miroku-esque idea – he would  
have been proud. "I need a hug."

Put on the spot, her new friend choked slightly, then pulled himself  
together and draped an arm across her shoulders, drawing her  
close. "Is this okay?"

"Nope, no good," she said, trying not to giggle. She wrapped her  
arms around his waist snugly, pillowing her head on his chest and  
sighing. Much better. "That's a hug," she stated happily, her  
former vivacity creeping back to her face, making her eyes sparkle.

"Who am I to argue?" he shrugged, looping his arms around  
her. "Besides, this is kind of comfortable," he smiled down at  
her. The sound of cheering reached their ears.

The New Year had begun.

* * *

Hard to end this one, sorry if it seems a bit odd. But hey, it  
leaves the future wide open, doesn't it? Hope you liked it. 

Chiisai-tori

* * *

Oh, happy day, there's more than one entry for this contest/challenge thingie That in mind, I'd like to open the challenge up to readers as well as group members to continue to submit entries to this ongoing challenge. There's no deadline so feel free to send them in as soon or as late as you like! 

For further contest rules and/or more challenges, please either join MonkandMiko Yahoo! Groups (URL in author information)or visit the group fanfiction account on this site.

Courtesy of Megami no Eien and MonkandMiko Yahoo! Groups


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